Vitamin R.....

It's true, Cubans drink a lot of rum! We can barely make it to lunch everyday without being offered rum! I feel it only polite to accept such generosity and they do refer to it as Vitamin R!

After my sense of humour failure, and being awake for sunrise, we had our last Cuban Massage down from the mountains and said goodbye to the truck, before heading into sugar plantation territory. We stopped at Valle de Los Ingenios, Valley of the Sugar Mills, which was the centre of the sugar production in the 18th century, and is home to Torre de Manaca Iznaga, a UNESCO world heritage site. The 7 floor tower used to watch over 30,000 slaves to ensure they didn't try to escape. It was hard work getting to the top because by then it was midday and incredibly hot. 

We briefly stopped in Sancti Spiritus, one of the original seven settlements founded by Diego Velasquez to admire the church before continuing our drive to Camaguey, Cuba's third largest city. Our hotel was faded Art Deco grandeur and a welcome sight after sleeping in tents. There was a roof top bar and a few of us languished there, all clean, no mosquitos, and had a number of piña coladas for our dinner!

Mosquitos and Mojitos

One drives you to the other!

Two days in the mountains. Great I thought, some trekking, cooler temperatures, at one with nature.... Blah, blah, blah! There was a tropical storm in the morning so it was like trekking through a steam bath and all day and all night long we were plagued by aggressive ninja-like mosquitos. We must have looked like a special needs group for the Tourrettes Society, with all of the jerky, twitching movements and then constant swearing as you realise the 17 layers of DEET have had no effect! In the end the only option is to resort to rum!

We had arrived in the Escambray Mountains. Not a very high mountain range but verdent forest that smells like the tropical greenhouse at Kew Gardens, all jasmine and butterfly lillies (the national flower) interspersed with the vibrant orange of the flame trees. There are far too many vultures for my liking, but the hummingbirds are just gorgeous. Iridescent loveliness. Red dragonflies, and the biggest butterflies I have ever seen. 

We stayed in two different haciendas, each with its own selection of free range chickens, pigs, dogs, cats and horses. We were given the option of sleeping out under the stars on the floor or in very small tents. Given the sight of dead scorpions, snake skins and mossies the tent was the only real option. At least in the Grand Canyon the flies stopped biting when the sun went down and all of our wet clothes dried overnight. I have now declared that I will only ever camp in deserts (or Sark!).

We hiked up to waterfalls, pools to swim in, to find caves and look out from view points. When not hiking we were driven around in old open topped Russian army trucks the only mode if transport that can cope with the terrain. They referred to the rides as a "Cuban massage", as you were jolted and thrown around. And in fact it wasn't dissimilar to the rollercoaster ride, excluding the loop the loop! I love it though. 

On the last afternoon we went for a short ramble to find some caves. I didn't want to be the odd one out and refuse to go in, but quite frankly I am not a mole, and have no need to live in a hole! But I man-ed up and duly followed, until introduced to the 22 leg spider.... Then I passed my camera to someone else and hot footed out of there! Even looking at the photo gives me the creeps! 

Further along the walk we came across an overhang and found a man turning a hog roast - our dinner for the evening. Yum, yum!

That night it got exceeding damp in the tent, and I was attacked by tiny ants with ferocious bites, needless to say I didn't sleep and was exceeding grumpy in the morning. Sense of humour failure extraordinaire!

Too hot in Trinidad....

It is 35c today, with humidity of 80%. Apparently we are in the hottest part of Cuba, and I really hope that is true. I am not sure I could cope with more than this without demanding to go to the beach!

The morning has been spent wandering around Trinidad, one of the first communities on Cuba to be established and it is now a Unesco World Heritage site. Only 60,000 people live here, crammed into tiny houses. We visited a bodega, effectively the corner shop where the locals can buy their rations. Each family has ration book that allows them to purchase a certain amount of subsidised essentials, rice, oil, eggs etc. apparently only if you were born before the revolution do you qualify for subsidised cigars! The subsidy is per family, regardless of number of children, so 6 eggs, 2lbs of rice, 2lbs of cooking oil a month doesn't stretch far, and they have to find money to supplement the rations.

It us really noticeable here that there is no traffic. Barely any cars, no planes in the sky, and just the occasional bus interspersed with horse and trap or bikes. I hauled myself up the smallest and ricketyest of wooden staircase to get to the top of a four story tower and look down over the town. The only noises were people in the streets, banging and clattering of pots and pans and builders and music. I mentioned it to some of the others and we all just stopped and listened!

We stopped off for a quick taste of the local speciality, a drink known as La Canchanchara. It's made with honey, lemon, water, ice and Aguardiente (part of the rum distilling process and about 70% proof!) It's served in small terracotta pots, and I had Aguardiente in Colombia so was braced for the kick but it was actually quite nice!

We also visited someone who practices some of the old religion, Santaria, brought to Cuba by the slaves. There seemed to be a black mother and child, lots of vessels of water, and the scariest of dolls sat in the middle of the room by herself. Very Friday 13th! They do believe in the evil spirits but also appear to worship female saints, but the Spanish had tried to convert them all to Catholism, so it has obviously created a mish-mash religion.

After lunch some of us headed down to the beach. It would have been great to be in the sea if it hadn't been so hot! It was like taking a bath, and who wants a bath when it's 35c? I longed for the coolness of the Colorado or the English Channel  (well maybe not quite so cold!) As we were sat around drying off a local approached us with fresh coconuts and it seemed rude not to partake. He insisted on making me a Coco Loca, which involved cutting off the top of the coconut and adding a serious splash of rum. Yuuuuuuummmmm! It certainly made the afternoon go in a haze.

Dinner was at a local house. We had what they would usually eat, rice, black beans, chicken and fried plantain. It seems odd that we are in such a lush tropical area and they don't seem to grow many vegetables, or herbs and spices. They don't really flavour their food as they say that it all costs money. When I asked if they grew their own vegetables, or herbs, I was laughed at! And yet food is obviously expensive for a Cuban.

The night ended up with me chasing Bennie Hill style a giant black grasshopper round the bedroom before finally giving up and trying to ignore its existence! Super brave of me!

Elegy to the Little White Shoes...

At the museum in Giron about the Bay of Pigs invasion there was the following poem that had been written about some shoes that were found....

I come from the swamp that has been redeemed,

With a story of the past that seemed

Drenched in blood and tears. If you choose,

Hear my sad tale of the little white shoes.

Nemesia, a charcoal maker's child, 

Grew up barefoot in the wild.

She dreamed of having little white shoes.

She knew it was an impossible dream, 

Distant as the blue light that, a celestial bud

Shields us at night from pain and mud.

One day something new, unexpected, came

To the swamp, bringing light. It's name:

Revolution, Fidel Castro's sun,

And with it, changes were begun.

The charcoal makers and fishermen

Founded co-ops which brought them

Unimagined wealth, a dawn of letters, numbers, everything!

Nemesis began to sing.

No longer barefoot now she wore

The little white shoes she'd hungered for.

On Sunday she was pretty, neat

With her shoes upon her feet.

But Monday she woke to the thunder of fear.

Furious birds, vultures, flew near

Strafing and inflicting pain mercenary U.S. planes.

Nemesia saw her mom fall dead.

Her little brothers, wounded, bled.

The hurricane of shots, they say, also blew her shoes away.

She cried in grief, "The planes must lose!

They've killed my family, and my little white shoes!"

The monster thought "My bombs will scare the mothers from raising brave children there.

Also why shouldn't their feet be bare?".

Now Nemesia has dried her tears.

Militiamen have stopped the bombs

That traitors bought to kill her mom.

No mercenary foreign hand can dim the new sun in our land that ensures that little girls

All of them, no matter whose, may have their wish of little white shoes.

Jesus Orta Ruiz

Time to explore...

This morning we left Havana, and headed east to the Zapata Peninsula, now mostly a national park of swamp,mangroves and beaches. It was noticeable that outside Havana there were barely any cars at all. Trucks and buses, but very few cars. The preferred mode of transport was either bicycle or horse and cart. And whilst we quickly entered flat, green landscapes there appeared to be little agriculture, apart from some sugar plantations or citrus groves. 

We arrived at the Caribbean Coast and were given the chance to swim in the sea. I managed to negotiate a good rate to hire a rather shabby snorkel, but it did the job. Never having been good at any sport (apart from my excellent tennis, eh Gilly, Tricia & SJ?!!!), I have always loved the water. So I was in my element! There is something about being enveloped in water, which muffles all sounds, and just slows everything down. The coral was quite extensively bleached, but still alive, and there was some diversity in fish ( I really must remember what they are all called, another epic fail on my part!). I do remember looking back at the shoreline and seeing a whole swarm of white butterflies, just fluttering along. After a while those of us that had swum grouped across the small track, with snorkel in hand, through the trees to a "cenote", effectively an underground river where the ceiling has collapsed. Still saltwater as it was close to the sea the water was a bit cooler, and sooooo black, because it was over 60ft deep.

After lunch we arrived in Playa Giron, a museum dedicated to the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961. I hadn't realised that the Bay of Pigs is so named because pig was the slang for pirates, who used to attack frequently in colonial times. We watched an antiquated video, that blamed the "Yankees" for training the invading force and providing air support and ex halted Fidel and his fellow revolutionaries for repelling the Cuban exiles within 72 hours. 

We had a quick stop in Cienfuegos, a colonial seaport, and wandered around, stretched our legs, before heading towards Trinidad. Another stop to break up the journey was at a fruit stall on the side of the road. The owner provided us with a taste of all of the fruits that he had, guava, mango, custard apples, papaya, coconuts, avocados, and plenty of other local fruits that tasted equally as delicious but I can't remember their names!

Hectic Havana

A new day and new travel companions, well those that were not affected and delayed by the French pilots strike. Flipping French! There will eventually be 18 of us. We met our Cuban guide and Ramone our driver, who promptly took us to Revolution Square. It is very apparent that there there are no advertising billboards anywhere, just political extortations, and murals of various heros to Cuba, usually citing Che, Fidel, Chavez, Jose Marti, or any of the various revolutionaries. 

Old Havana really reminded me of Cartagena but without as much money. More faded, crumbling and rotting neo classical buildings. A quick tour of the rum factory provided us with the basic knowledge on the distilling process, but to be honest I suspect we will drink far too much rum to care about such trivialities over the next few days! After wandering around in the sweltering heat a quick stop at Hotel Ambos Mundos was most welcome. We sat on the roof top balcony and I had my first Cuban beer, Crystal (no Grade 10 rapids here!). This hotel was where Ernst Hemingway lived for some years and apparently thought they made the best mojitos! Free to wander a few of us headed to the Museum of the Revolution, housed in the colonial building that Batista had ruled from. Very old and ramshackled it appeared that the displays had probably been made in the 1960's and never updated. Mostly in Spanish there were some English translations that detailed the bloodied item of clothing we were looking at, referred to the atrocities committed by "Imperialist America", hailed the actions of the revolutionaries, and detailed the nationalisation of the country. It was noticeable that there was no mention of the Cuban Missile Crisis, or indeed really anything after the 1980's.

Our first group dinner was on a roof top in Old Havana. My first mojito! And it's claim to fame was that Beyoncé and Jay Z, had frequented the same place when they had visited!

Cuban chaos....

It all started at Nassau airport. Boarding the plane to Havana was bedlam. People had been assigned the same seats, everyone seemed to have copious amounts of hand luggage that they were trying to stuff everywhere, there was a laid back approach from the cabin crew, and I tried not to notice that part of the inside window frame next to me was missing. It was also slightly disconcerting when everyone applauded upon landing. Was there that much of a doubt that we would make it?!

The international airport is smaller than Guernsey's airport, which took me somewhat by surprise. It didn't take long to pass through immigration and customs, find the currency exchange (you are automatically deducted 10% if you exchange USD), and then jump in a taxi. The thing that hits you most are the fumes. Eugh. It's worse than Bangkok! But then you notice the cars. All brightly coloured and vintage, in various stages of repair. Apparently until 2011 only cars from before 1959 were allowed to be sold, so families pass them down as heirlooms, and the cars are constantly being fixed. How amazing and so much more joyful to look at than the usual boring and monotonous cars that we have.

Old Havana is definitely a faded colonial town, with buildings painted in Iced Jems colours! Very similar to Cartegna, just less vibrant and in worse condition, but then they both had the same colonial power. They are all in various states of disrepair and obviously squeeze in numerous families. For some of them only the facade exists, and there is emptiness behind. 

I checked in to Hotel Plaza, a good 15 steps below the hotel I left this morning, but again all faded glory. The windows don't open, the walls are disintegrating, and you can see daylight through the a/c unit. But at least I have a/c! And a tv, which interestingly shows US channels (although I understand that you can only get the US channels in the hotels, locals can't get them). I went for a bit of a wander along the promenade towards the sea but the sun was going down, and I also received a lot of comments from the local guys, which apparently is normal (!) so I didn't hang around too long. There will be safety in numbers tomorrow. 

The nightlife is currently in full swing, I feel that my room is above a nightclub, but I can hear another 3 all vying to be heard the most. Thank goodness for ear plugs! (It turned out that there was a national celebration going on).